


Separation

by VainClaws



Category: Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice (Video Game), 恋与制作人 | Liàn Yǔ Zhì Zuò Rén (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Drama & Romance, Dubious Consent, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Romance, SAD SAD BOISSSSSSSS YEEHAW, SAD SHIT RIGHT HERE FOLKS, Slow Burn, Sort of AU?, Teasing, Triggers, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2020-07-29 13:04:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20082679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VainClaws/pseuds/VainClaws
Summary: He's not coming back.And yet, everyday, she still tells him about her day.( Smut in Chapter 5 - Reunion )





	1. Farewell

**Author's Note:**

> There will be more angst, more questions, and more answers as I update through this fanfic!

He’s not coming back.

_ Everything changed after the storm _ —he’s not coming back, she thought to herself constantly—as if to remind herself, or perhaps to make her sate her state of denial, it was easier than crying hours into the night and to just wake up feeling even worse than she already has. 

It didn’t help that everything reminds her of him, and it didn’t help that everything she does has a tint of him by now. Even as she sleeps, she could still feel his warmth enveloping her, even in her kitchen, she’d still imagine the warm touch of his palm on her back as he passed her in the kitchen. None of this will ever be the same, she thought. He will no longer offer her rides home, offers that she regretted not taking, insisting she’s doing fine on her own.

Perhaps, it was her fault, really. Maybe—she sighed slowly—just, maybe, if she convinced herself hard enough that she had never met him, she’d suddenly fall into that trance and believe in it. 

She wants to forget, and yet, she is constantly plagued by nightmares, flashbacks of what seems like a stranger’s past—and pieces of puzzles all forming inside of her head, things she cannot comprehend. It all confuses her, and hurt her at the same time.

_ Lucien would have known what to do. _

Then she paused in her tracks;

_ He’s not coming back anymore. _

She reminds herself again. 

The first few days were awful, knowing that the man she so adores have moved out without any news, didn’t answer he phone calls, nor her texts—decided to move away to another research center all of a sudden? Hell, she even went to Victor to ask if he could do her a favour of looking someone’s location up.

“Why are you asking me this question?” He replied, stern as always. She had asked him the question after one of their weekly meetings, she wanted to explain, she wanted to tell him who she’s desperately trying to look for, but with the CEO’s cold gaze on his files, not even giving her a look, or even a hint of interest in helping, she shuts up. 

“I—I.. I was just wondering.” She answered as she tidied up her side of the table along with her files, getting ready to go back. Victor opened his mouth once more, but she couldn’t care less of what he has to say right now, she left the building with an ache in her heart that just won’t seem to go away. 

And yet, she still texts him everyday.

She opened her text messages, seemingly knowing that he’ll never reply, but she still talks to him as if he would—as if he reads the collection of her texts from multiple dates and occasions;

She sighed, and started typing as she walked back;

  
  
  


She almost  _ cried _ as she sent the last text, she always managed to keep her composure in texting Lucien, not sounding like she’s been crying and blaming herself for his disappearance. No, she’s not going to weight him down on her, to shackle him on her—he doesn’t deserve that.

She misses him.

So much.

And one of the things that Lucien has taught her is how to be composed, to be perfectly mannered, and how to be calm—out of all things, she couldn’t have thought that this was what those lessons would be used for. 

And the days afterwards  _ felt like a blur _ , work is going great surprisingly, but herself on the other hand, is barely keeping it together.

She’s losing sleep, of the fear of her nightmares and visions that is getting more and more frequent, as if her Evol powers are going off the charts ever since Lucien left—she paid it no mind, thus she minimised her sleeping time, she would work, busy herself with projects until she fell asleep, or at this point, pass out.

People started noticing the bags under her eyes, the way she smiles weakly, and how she is always working with no rest—as if she’s distracting herself, Kiki once said—and that is true, she just wants to forget, to pretend that if she finishes this task, Lucien would be back home welcoming her.

If she finishes this one on time, maybe Lucien will come back the next time she comes home.

She continuously lives in a spiral of denial, and it hurts, every single second of it. 

And after one of her shooting schedules, Kiro asked if she’d like to have lunch, she couldn’t really say no to Kiro, and well, since Kiro’s presence was actually,  _ enjoyable _ . She did have a great time, his Evol definitely helped her with her current situation, making her have fun was actually a good distraction that she didn’t actually think of.

They went to eat at Souvenir, as usual, the food was delicious and Kiro paid it off, even though she insisted on splitting the bill, he paid it off anyway. She laughed and smiled at his jokes, asked him about his career, how his manager is annoying the hell out of him these days, and his collection of figures from snacks at the corner store. 

She was distracted, she was almost enjoying herself until—

He asked her what’s wrong.

She froze. 

“What do you mean?” She tilted her head at him, seemingly trying to act confused. 

“I don’t know Miss Chips, you have been…” He trailed off for a minute before continuing, “You’ve been quite off… are you okay? You know, I am always here to help..” 

She smiled.

“I’ve just been in severe fatigue recently..” She smiled, sighing in relief she could fluently make up excuses by now, “With the production company going so well, I really don’t want to give myself any slack, I am just so afraid if I fail, the whole company might—“

“Ssh..” Kiro silenced her, “Stop doubting yourself Miss Chips! You need rest, you look like you haven’t gotten any proper sleep lately—please do take care of yourself!” He insisted with his charming smile and warm aura. 

She smiled, a genuine one this time, “Thank you, Kiro..” She paused, “I will!” 

And she is grateful that he believes this lie of hers as well. 

She parted ways with Kiro almost right outside of Souvenir, with Kiro having other schedules and being in a hectic life, he would dash around in the speed of light and not to mention him being seen with her in this situation would raise a lot of rumours, so she lets him go with his manager, the sounds of their bickering and his manager asking him about his diet all faded in her ears as she turned around, needing to think.

So she walked. 

She walked, and with every step she took she couldn’t help but feel so alone. 

Was she not enough for him to stay? She thought she was. It was her fault for thinking that way. She walked and suddenly looked up, she had arrived at the park.

And she hates herself for the first thing that went through her mind was;

_ Lucien loved going here.  _

They went here too, a couple of times in fact. 

She stopped dead in her tracks, looked around, and sees that the sun is starting to set, she could feel the warmth suddenly turning into a chilly breeze—not that she minds, but being here, being here is another different thing, because this place reminds her of him, and he’s not here, he’ll never be here anymore, she’ll never know why he’ll never be here anymore. 

She stifled a sob, opened up her text messages to text him again;

  
  


She paused, before texting the last text of the day;

The wind seemed colder, her heart seemed a bit duller, the pain felt even more real.

And yet she still denies.

Later on that week, she met with Victor again, their meetings going as usual, Victor being the soft big bully he is with his comments—and at this point, she just smiled and paid his small insults no mind. At this point, the only thing that could hurt her was the absence of a certain glossy-eyed man that she longs for too much.

Victor noticed.

She didn’t think that he wouldn’t notice the change in her behaviour, he’s too observant to not.

But, instead of pressuring her or asking her what’s wrong, he looked.. almost sad.

And when she went out, she glanced back for a bit, and she could see him looking at her with such empathy in his eyes, that she almost thought  _ he already knew what was going on with her _ . 

When she was close by her apartment, she could feel eyes on her, she gazed left and right to locate this uneasy feeling, the street was pretty crowded, giving it was a Friday night itself—but she could feel a sense of familiarity, she could sense it.

Her heart beats, her heart leaps at the possibility of seeing  _ him _ again.

She remembered how she would be waiting for him in the research center or at the university, to eat lunch together, to think back, that was one of the moments she’d look forward to in the day. 

She knows exactly when Lucien would suddenly approach here, the feeling of warmth, and the feeling of his presence was detectable by her, she would just know where he is—the feeling of him always being by her side, like one of the promises he made a long long time ago. 

She looked around, to every corner of the building, to every face in the crowd, hoping that one of them would be him,  _ please let it be him. _

Maybe she was imagining things, maybe she was just depraved and made things up, but she refused to back down, she continued to look around—and yet to no avail. 

“Lucien?” She half whispered to thin air, when she couldn’t find anyone or anything to signal his presence, she gave up. Her eyes stopped gleaming, and her heart back into the dull state it has always been. 

She opened her phone, and clicked dial on his contact number, and suddenly—

His ringtone.

She followed it and located a dark figure walking away from her, but the sound—it’s him, she knows it’s him! 

She followed, “Lucien!” She shouted, chasing the figure that’s moving away from her.

Her heart is a mix of joy, fear, and sadness—please, don’t slip away again. 

“Lucien!” She called out again, the crowd in this area is particularly more dense, she is having trouble keeping up with the figure in front of her, but that’s all she’ll ever focus on right now. 

The figure turned to the right into an alley, she hurriedly follows.

But as she arrived, no one was there.

It was a dark alley, with nowhere to go. 

It was a dead end.

“Lucien?” She called out softly, not once entering the dark alleyway, standing in the edge of the light that shone upon the entrance of the alley, “Lucien—if, if that’s you.. I—I….” She stopped, her hands clutching on her phone tightly.

She dials the number once again, after a few rings—it says it is ringing, but the sound is no longer heard anywhere. 

She sighed and turned her phone off. 

She thought… She _ almost _ , almost thought…

She choked back a sob—no, she’s not crying in public, she knows how to be better than this.

So she turned away, every step growing heavier, and heavier. Each breath she takes feels even more painful, and the empty feeling in her chest growing even more vacant. 

And that night, she walked back home alone again.

In her apartment, as soon as the doors shut, she called Lucien one more time—she never left any voicemails for him, thinking that it would be bothersome for him, but she wants to let her emotions reach him, she wants to talk to him.

As soon as she is able to leave a voicemail, she finally spoke, “Hey!” She paused. 

“I.. I thought I saw you earlier today..” She walked around the apartment, closing the window of her apartment before walking to the kitchen, “I.. I must have been seeing things..” She continued off.

She went to the dining room, looking at the spot where she put the stack of Lucien’s mail a couple of days ago, it took her a full minute to register the fact that the stack is now gone.

Her heart leaped—maybe he took them, the window that opened, he must have been here, maybe he was here—she couldn’t think too rationally anymore.

“Lucien—I…” She smiled, the smile must have been heard through her voice, “Did you stop by today? I—The mail pile, the window—I…” She was at lost for words.

“Did you visit me?” She asked, not expecting an answer. So she sighed, “Alright, I.. I am glad you have a hold of your mail now..” She continued off.

“I had the usual meeting today, things are ok, I mean—“ She scoffed, “You would know, I texted you a lot..” She even laughed a bit. 

“I…I.. I hope you’re eating dinner, okay? Tell me when you’re coming back. I…” _ I love you _ , but she paused, and sighed before ending the voicemail, and trying to eat what she could for dinner tonight.

What she didn’t notice was the Ginkgo leaf left near the windows, and the small piece of ginkgo leaf left near the side of where the mail was once stacked. 

For the first time, her dreams were a strange arrangement of illusions, but it was not too painful anymore. 

—

That day, Lucien realised that what he had done wrong.

Lucien realised that she was happy.

Her eyes gleamed bright, her smile sending shockwaves of warmth all around her, her hands softly clenching his in a reassuring manner—and he realises too late that the more he does this, the less the chances are for her to  _ awaken _ .

_ Lucien never fails his missions. _

But, her—

The first time he gave her visions that hurt her, the higher the chance of her awakening, of her remembering. The visions were nothing too harmful, just flashes that would get her to feel small bits of pain from her past, slowly but sure, he feeds her with constant illusions—constantly,  _ lying _ to her. 

Under the big tree, he accidentally revealed their past, all too long ago, and even accidentally gotten himself to emotional that his illusions made her see his past—an error that he could fix. There was nothing Lucien couldn’t fix, and this, what he has with her, is his mistake.

He realised he could have provoked her awakening in a better manner, in a way where he wouldn’t have to hurt either, in a way where she wouldn’t hurt too much either. But he was too late, he was too selfish that he indulged in the only thing that he shouldn’t have. 

_ He loved her. _

And it pains him to know that to succeed, he must break her this way. 

_ “Earth to Professor Lucien?”  _ She giggled, waving her hand in front of his face, he looked up, realising that he must have been dazing off into the unknown, “Something on your mind?” She asked again.

He grabbed hold of her hand, and slowly pressed his delicate lips on the skin there, closing his eyes and inhaling her scent, and he is a fool—he knows this, he acknowledges his mistake, but yet, he seemingly doesn’t have all of the gears under his control this time.

The world was seemingly quiet, the smell of coffee and sunlight mixed with sandalwood is all to familiar for him, and now the smell of her in his apartment has left its mark as well, the delicate and soft fragrance of her, reminding him at how often they would spend their Sunday mornings like this. 

So he indulged, his rational brain thought to himself that he should, he should take, take, and take until the time is right, that he should take all that he can as long as he could, that he should draw this out as long as he can.

But this is unfair.

_ Unfair for her. _

“Lucien?” Her soft voice ringed into his ears, causing him to put her hands down, yet still clutching them tightly with his.

The silence felt like forever, her eyes gleamed with curiosity, happiness, but also,  _ was that a tint of sadness  _ he sees?

“Are you happy?” She asks, her eyes darting away from his gaze. 

He grabs hold of her chin, tilting her head straight forward to look back into her eyes; 

“Yes, I am.” 

_ And I don’t think I’ll ever be this happy again. _


	2. Drainage

_ Gavin had been watching her._

But then again, when has he not kept his eye on her?

The first time he had seen her recently, he had accidentally bumped into her on the road—she looked confused, although not very abnormal of her to look confusing, but it is as if she’s staring into nothingness as he asked her about her day. She is always excited to talk about her days, or—_was_.

“Gavin, we’ll talk soon, okay?” She smiled, as she slowly passed him, “I really have work to do, I’m sorry.” She shuffled away with a faint smile as she left Gavin in the middle of the sidewalk.

The second time was near Loveland University, she saw her going out of the research center, looking down at the ground, clutching on her files in her hands—she looked back at the building, then went to get her phone from her purse.

She started typing.

She bit her lip, her eyes looked so faint, almost as if she’s trying to not cry—she’s always been bad at hiding her emotions, even from a distance.

After she left, Gavin went by the receptionist to ask a few questions.

“That girl that came in just now—“ Gavin came in, showing his badge, but then was cut off as the girl sitting at the desk interrupted him;

“Ah, Professor Lucien’s colleague!” She answered with a surprising sense of enthusiasm.

“What was she here for?”

“She came to Professor Lucien’s office, but he wasn’t there—I was told that he moved away for new research, but it’s surprising that even he didn’t tell her about his whereabouts.”

Gavin clenched his fist.

_ Is he the cause of this?_

It was just a simple spark of curiosity on how her eyes seemingly lost the bright gleam it always had, and how she walks slower and less firm than usual. Gavin decided that asking her would not be the best thing to do, so he instead he insisted on continuing on following and observing her.

_Totally not creepy_, he’s doing this for her safety. Or, at least that’s what he kept on telling himself.

He even stopped by to ask Minor regarding her change in demeanor in the workplace, and Minor, who is always so carefree and is definitely, seriously, not someone that leaks information about whether or not she has been eating or not to Gavin. Ridiculous.

“Has she been…” Gavin sighed for a bit, averting his gaze away from Minor, who is looking at him like he’s confused, and to be fair, when is he not? “Has she been acting strange lately? Is she eating? Has she been getting enough rest?”

Minor just shrugged, with a small hmm, he then proceeds to answer; “She has been a bit quiet, but her work ethic is off the charts lately, she has been coming in early and going home even later, perhaps, she’s just tired?” Minor said, his hand on his chin as if thinking.

Gavin didn’t say anything back, it wasn’t strange for her to be a hard worker, she has always been staying up all night to finish her presentation, and she would occasionally text Gavin on how annoying the CEO of LFG for working her way too hard. And yet, she persisted with a smile on her face.

But this.. this is different.

“Although…” Minor continued, and Gavin’s ears somehow perked up, “Ever since Professor Lucien moved away, she has been… quiet. Maybe, it’s that?” Minor’s brows furrowed, Gavin is somehow impressed, perhaps Minor is definitely thinking this time.

Somehow, Gavin had known something was off with the Professor, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. He is grateful that it wasn’t anything major, like a death of a loved one, but at the same time, Gavin was angry.

He was angry at Lucien. For whatever it is he did to her. 

He was angry at him for not being able to prevent her from getting hurt.

_Wasn’t that his initial promise?_

“Gavin—I.. I didn’t want to like let you on, on the wrong message? Maybe they are just friends, sometimes missing a friend could be just as severe as missing a significant other.. I’m not saying that they are dating or whatever, and it’s not like the rumors going around are saying _anything_ like that I—“

Gavin gave Minor the stink eye, and Minor chuckled as he finally shut up.

Continuously afterwards, Gavin would watch her go home drained, her face sad, and confused—but one of the few things that he’d notice, is that the constant texting, constantly.

After work, she’d always be attached to her phone.

_ Is she texting Lucien?_

He followed her, making sure he’s not seen, and sees her picking up a bunch of mail, he could see in a flash that it was definitely not hers. _It was definitely the prick’s mail,_ he thought to himself.

_ He’s hurting you, why are you holding on to his stuff? _But, he couldn’t gather the courage to ask her directly, she looked fragile—too fragile.

And of course, on another windy night he decided to sweep through her apartment to borrow Lucien’s mail away from her.

It’s for the best, he lied to himself—_I’ll help her forget if it means living under his shadow for as long as it takes_.

Then, just maybe, she’d finally see him as he sees her.

Victor looked at the girl’s back as she exited the meeting room, her work has been great lately, very focused and detail oriented, he is surprised, almost impressed if it weren’t for how she rarely looks him in the eye anymore.

Her gaze would always stick somewhere else, like her shoes, or her files, or her presentation—but rarely his eyes. The only recent time she looked him in the eye was when she asked if he could help her find someone, more exact was,_ to track someone’s whereabouts. _

_She’s sad. _

He knows this.

He knows what’s going on, and yet, he shouldn’t do anything to interrupt—it was in the plan all along.

Lucien contacted him, giving him details on her, and how he has made a significant hypothesis that this plan of his would speed up and eventually increase the full potential of her awakening. The previous week before Lucien left, Lucien had told Victor of his plan, and what it has came to.

And that, he would leave her.

“At this rate?” _You’re leaving her at this rate?_ Victor replied, pouring himself his favorite glass of wine, back facing the scientist. It was late in his office, no one was in the office, at least no one important that could be of witness to the scientist barging into the CEO’s office late at night.

Lucien stayed quiet for a moment, and all they could hear was the sound of traffic down below the building, “I have been doing my research, this would benefit highly for Black Swan, she would awaken to her full potential more effectively—“ He paused before sighing and standing up from his chair to face the windows, “I feel like the progress I’ve been making might turn elsewhere, if I do not execute it this way.”

Lucien was almost caught red handed, when she saw him talking to the rest of the Black Swan in the back of the research center, getting his arm hurt in attempt to prove to her that he was the _good guy_—to make her trust in him even more than she blindly already has.

Lucien even had to put her to sleep at the aquarium before one of the Black Swan members approached him, he even had the audacity to ensure them, that all of this is going according to plan—even when it’s not.

Maybe, maybe _it is_ according to plan.

The pain he would inflict on her soon, would be more than enough.

The pain that he would feel, would be punishment for him going off tracks. _You don’t deserve her,_ the voice inside his head continuously ranged, making his heart clench and ache.

Victor leaned back, taking a sip of his wine, thinking to what the Professor had said, “Then what about you?”

“You don’t have to worry about me, I’ll always execute my plans perfectly.” The professor answered.

“Hm.” Victor answered, seemingly unconvinced, “Then, what of the girl?”

“I will continuously feed her the dreams, and hopefully the illusions and the pain would be enough to stir it even quicker.”

“So you’re saying that you’re going to visit her in dreams, is that it?”

“If you put it that way.” Lucien looked back at the CEO, before turning away to face the glass again. He isn’t _selfish_, he shouldn't fall into such selfish needs. He visits her in dreams only to execute plans, nothing more, nothing less.

“I will keep you updated with my observations as well, Professor.” Victor replied again. “I—“ But Lucien cut him off;

“I only have one request for you.” Lucien continued, “Take care of her while I’m gone.” _For me_, as if Lucien wanted to add.

And the genuine pain in Lucien’s eyes was so loud, Victor felt like it could break glass. Thus, Victor himself, the ever stoic CEO, _agreed_.

Her dreams are beginning to even feel more _vivid_ now.

She would sometime even feel his gaze lingering on her in dreams, or even see his shadow across the other side of the room in her dreams, but every time she reaches out, he would fade into thin air.

This shadow of Lucien that haunts her dreams, sometimes she thinks it is only there, because she allows him to, because she allows him to hurt her this way. She would dream of faint old memories of Lucien, and then awakening as if nothing’s wrong, and the worst part is that for a split second, she felt as if he never left. She wished that he never left.

What he wouldn’t give, she thought to herself.

What he wouldn’t give to stay with her.

In her dreams, she would often be running away, tears forming in her eyes that her vision blurry, it felt like it was burning her eyes and slowly but firmly, strong hands were shaking as they grabbed her waist, and she was splitting, shattering, breaking but all she could see was the shadow her lover walking away.

“_Stay with me, stay—stay, please.”_

_ She is running, but she is not getting any closer to him._

_“He won’t stay, he left you.”_

_ A sound of glass shattering, butterflies scattering._

_ “He’ll never come back.”_

_ The light suddenly seemed too bright it felt like glass cutting through her skin. A faint brush of a familiar hand around her waist, only for a split second too short until it was then gone again. _

_ “Come back to me, come back.”_

_ The butterflies all fell to the ground._

_ **“I’m waiting for you.”**_

Voices inside her dreams, growing louder and louder, seemingly hers, as she spiraled down, and landed on both her feet again, this time—in Lucien’s dining room. Everything felt normal—too normal.

She felt a presence behind her.

She gasped.

“You’re jumpy this morning.” A familiar soft voice whispered into her ear, as soft hands circled her waist and the scent of the man she adores and longs for, fills her senses all too well.

Beneath his hands, he feels as though he spends every waking hour studying and observing her, the way he touches her all too sweet and careful, as if he has learned everything about her. And his frame is so much broader than hers. His hands are so much larger.

She closes her eyes, _it’s not real, it’s not real_—she chants, over and over. His hands around her waist, it feels cool and fresh, pure enough to wash away the building pain of the times he has never touched her like this.

_This_, she thinks, is the most painful.

He turns her around and looms over her, his features etched in some strange beauty she cannot pin down, it felt so familiar yet so different. His eyes are more powerful than they should be. Like roughed edges of a crystal.

He stared down at her, meeting her unfocused gaze. She could feel the blood beneath her skin, the flush on her face. She bit her lip and finally looked away, “You’re not real..”

“But _you_ are.” He said back to her, and his face was so close to hers, that she almost wanted to cry from the intensity.

I want to wake up now, please—“Stop—this is too much…” Her eyes became teary as she started to push away the man infront of her.

Her pain must have shown in her face as he stared at her lips that he wanted to do so many wicked things to, even in her fear hazed mind, she wouldn’t dare of denying him, or any substitute of him, because the next thing she knew her mouth was crushing his and her arms were wrapped around him.

He moaned his pleasure into her touch and thrust his tongue into her mouth to make her gasp at the intrusion. He pressed her harder into the table, his cock stirring beneath his pants, and he ground himself against her, rutting over their clothes. She whimpered and clutched him harder, then swung her legs up to wrap them around his waist.

“I missed you, my butterfly.” He whispered against her lips, kissing her like a man starved before slowly nipping at her neck, “Don’t you miss me too?” He grounds his cock on to her core, and she felt every single friction of it.

She cried, because she does, she misses him, but this is not him—this will never be him.

She did not know if he had understood her tears or if she merely responded to his tone and the way he touched her, but she shuddered in his arms so hard he nearly dropped her and she almost successfully moved away from the illusion of the man she desperately loves.

But instead, her legs tightened around him until she could barely move through it but she struggled anyway as she felt herself drench the thin cotton of her underwear and soak through the front of his to warm his cock. He gasped at this, as if imagining this small taste of what it might feel like to be inside her, the sweet and cloying scent of her permeating the air around them until it was all he smelled and all he cared about.

She whined, she cried—before softly whispering;

“Lucien, stop—“ She cried once more.

And suddenly the man in front of her froze, and everything broke into ashes, the familiar warmth of the illusion faded away and as what she felt as a small kiss was pressed upon her forehead, as if a soft way of an apology.

She awakens.

Alone.

This time, she didn’t even try to stop the tears streaming down on to her face.


	3. Gray Clouds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry last chapter was short couldnt write while i was horny or whatever lmao

Losing her father was painful.

She’d say that it would be one of the lowest points of her life, it is also her ammunition to keep going, to continuously see the bright side of things, she wouldn’t, _no_, she cannot let all of this get to the best of her and forget that this, all of this, is for her father. Even so, perhaps, it already has gotten into her. _Do it for your father_, she thought to herself, small breaths taken as she closed her eyes slowly—_He wouldn’t want to see you like this._

The rain outside didn’t help the cold already seeping into her heart, nor does the gray sky made her feel less dull than she already has been feeling. On this particular Sunday, she was planning on visiting her father’s grave, although the weather was not particularly supportive of her plans, she tried to go anyway.

She needs to see his father, now more than ever.

She dressed herself in all black, with her purse swung over her shoulder, grabbing her umbrella; she slowly opened the door out, and stepped outside. The smell of the hallway is a scent familiar to her, it’s a smell of cement, somehow freshly polished floors, and a tint of lavender—she quickly locked her door and finds her way outside of her apartment building.

Opening up her umbrella, she walked towards the cemetery, it’s really not the fastest way to go, but at least it gives her the opportunity to think of other things as she walks, like how the roads under her shoes are wet from the rain, how the sound of traffic smoothly travels into her ears, how the smell of rain, a heavy mix of grass and water, mixed thoroughly together—it helps her. It helps her distract herself from how _sad_ she is.

The streets are still operating just as usual, in fact the stores are more crowded than they usually are, the shops lights the heavily dull road with their various lighting displays, it warms her up a bit to remember how much she loves seeing the diverse art and decoration these stores would provide back when she was a smaller kid.

Back then.

She snatched her phone from her purse, opened the familiar messages tab; and slowly her fingers started drifting on its own. 

She seemingly wanted to type; _I wish you’re here to see the rain with me too_—but she held back, and each day her texts have gotten shorter, not that she didn’t want to talk to him.

She’d give anything to see him again.

She knows that holding on to this is unhealthy, she wants to let go—she needs to let go, texting him less is a step, a small, but hopefully, a _sure_ one.

_ Let the past rest._

Her eyes scanned over the window shops, until one of the door to a famous high end wine store opened with a familiar set of piercing eyes staring back at her. His hand is clutching the wine he just bought while the other holds up his umbrella, as his eyes finally spotted the girl standing there in front of him.

For a moment, it felt like time stopped.

_Maybe it did, considering who she accidentally met. _

She didn’t say anything as she looked away, and started walking again.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Victor’s cold voice trails off behind her, she halted to a stop, didn’t even bother turning around to face him again. She really didn’t need Victor’s nonstop bullying right now, she really can’t afford it at this time, _Please, I just want to go_—“Has the rain suddenly made you deaf?”

He is right next to her now, and yet she still won’t look at him, her eyes fixed at the puddle of water on the sidewalk as she finally spoke; “I was just on my way.” She said as she gripped the umbrella’s handle even tighter.

“Where are you going?” He asked again.

_Why do you care?_ She almost wanted to reply, but know what’s best for her career and her professionalism to not do so. “I am going to see my father.” She replied shortly, finally looking into Victor’s cold gaze.

The wind blew colder this time, the rustling sound of leaves and rain adding to the mix of her rationality that it is probably best for her to not visit at this day—but she doesn't want to—she wants to see him now, she _needs_ to.

Victor didn’t reply this time, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything either as she walked away again; “Let me give you a ride.” He said all of a sudden, and when she didn’t stop walking, he walked behind her, slowly, as if he’s being careful; “Please.”

She stopped. _What did he just say?_

“I can walk, Victor.” She replied.

“I know you are capable.” He walked to face her this time, “I want to help you.” _Let me help you._

“I don’t need you to feel bad for me, I can handle walking down on the pouring rain—Or, is it just you that feels like—“ _Like I am incapable of everything I do?_ She paused, her eyes not meeting his gaze that is clearly, gazing down on her, “I am sorry—I didn’t mean, I—“

“Please.”

Yet, he still persisted.

“Victor—“

“It’s not safe for you to walk alone in this conditions.” _Not in your mental state. _

_He’s being nice_, a voice inside her seemingly said, _accept the help_. _Lucien wouldn’t have wanted you to walk alone like this_—she closed her eyes at the thought, she shouldn’t be thinking that way anymore, instead;

_Your father would want you to take care of yourself. _

So she agreed.

The car ride was silent, except for the sound of traffic and the rain outside, she kept her gaze out the window and her hands clutching the umbrella in her arms, not once did she miss the way Victor would sigh and would often gaze at her from the corner of his eyes.

She looked at the streets, this heavy rain reminded her of the day where Lucien bumped into her in the middle of the rain—when he stopped to save one of the stray cats that had been stuck in the rain; back when he was still _here_. How she wished she could relive that moment once again, if only.

The next day, she had caught a flu and he texted her if she was okay.

He had offered to take her to the hospital since her sickness wasn’t getting better, and yet he lectured her about how she could never take good care of herself—that part, might be true on his take.

_“Is it worth it?” Taking her to the hospital, she wanted to add as she texted him,_

_ “If it’s you, it is.” He replied._

She chuckled a bit in the car, her hands fumbling with the umbrella, she bit her lip—_what a lie that was_, and she fell for it, it’s her fault anyway, she trusted him so blindly, perhaps this was karma, for everything she has done wrong in her life.

She remembered the dream she had, of her sitting in a room full of mirrors, beaten bloody, eyes full of tears, hands shaking of fear, or sadness, the feeling of tiredness sinking into her bones, she could feel her spirit drained ever so slowly as she turned her head to face one of her reflections in the mirror.

She looked so much like her, but it is not her—this girl, was who she was. Before the storm, and yes, how fool of her to not realize the calm before the storm, how everything was going just right, right before everything hurts and confuses her all the same; yet, she kept on going, reminding herself on how it is always the darkest before the dawn.

She could feel something awakening inside her, it’s intense; it’s enigmatic and electric, it’s like a shockwave, like a power surge—She cannot place this feeling or what’s going on, everything’s too much and yet numb at the same time.

The reflection moved, her hands moving forward to as if touch her through the mirror, and she finally spoke out to her;

“Does it ever stop hurting?”

And she answered, with a tear dropping off her left eye;

_ “You make room for it.”_

Then the dream changes into a spiral once again, she is now seeing the past, as Lucien grabbed her cheeks and smiled at her, with the soft voice of his, he spoke, _“You have to be brave, even when I’m not there with you.” _Accompanied with the voices of him saying, “I’ll never let you go.”

Liar, liar, liar, _liarliarliarliar_—

_ I believe you._

_ I trusted you._

She laughed once again, if only she weren’t such a fool.

“What’s so funny?”

She forgot about Victor, the man who is literally driving this car right at this moment—how could she forget the freaking car driver himself? It felt wrong referring to the highly successful Victor as “t_he man who is literally driving this car right at this moment_”; so she chuckled, this time, because she finds it amusing.

“Nothing..” She replied, finally looking at him with a smile, “I just find you driving me like this as amusing.”

Victor was in a state of shock, he might as well have hit the curb if they weren’t stopping in a red light already;

She’s smiling.

The first time in so long.

“It’s the first time I’ve seen you smile…” _at me_, he wanted to add, but instead he continued off, “Nowadays, I meant.”

“Well—“ She slumped back in her seat, as her eyes started to match the gray clouds up above once again, “There’s not much to smile about these days.”

And Victor agrees.

She arrives at the cemetery, the rain has stopped, although occasionally there would be small drops here and there, she pays it no mind as she walks out of the car without her umbrella shielding her. She turns her back to face Victor once again, “Thank you for the ride, I—“ She fumbled a bit, “I appreciate you helping me.”

Victor looked at her from inside the car, his fingers tapping on the wheel, as if thinking of something, she cannot really put her finger on it, but his eyes—they seemed disturbed, like he is here, but also not here at the same time. _What are you thinking, Victor?_

_ “Victor?” _She called out again.

He looked up at her from the window of his car, and opened his mouth, “I’ll wait for you here.”

“No, you don’t have to—this is a matter that’s uh—important? Yes—I mean, uh, personal? I believe—“

“That wasn’t a question.” He said firmly, “Come back here when you’re done, I’ll be waiting for you.” He replied.

She smiled, like she felt bad, but also, she smiles like she is confused on how to say no to him; but she didn’t this time.

“I’ll come back.” She answered briefly, before walking away.

She’ll come back.

Victor gave of a nod before he closes the window, and in the silence, and the sound of the small birds chirping, he realized that he had said an incredibly idiotic thing.

_I’ll be waiting for you._

He has always thought of the word; _waiting_, as a romantic one. Because of how it shows loyalty, and trust, and how they would go through enough suffering just to witness the other’s existence with them once more.

Waiting.

He knows the feeling of loss, he knows how it feels to have someone you deeply loved be taken away from you, the feeling of longing, the need to be with them once more is suffocating—Victor knows all too well. He endured, he wouldn’t say that he doesn’t mind the feeling anymore, but he just made enough compromises to stifle those feelings in his heart.

He sighed and laid his head back on the headrest of the driver seat, his fingers gripping the steering wheel, if only he hadn’t agreed to Lucien to take care of her, maybe he would be back home enjoying his wine on his Sunday off. And deep down, he knows that even if he didn’t agree, he’d still do what he did just now.

He feels like sunshine to him, even if he denies it a thousand times everyday, it would all come right back to him. He wishes he could ignore it, he wishes so badly to be able to do so. And yet…

She arrives at her father’s grave, she smiled a bit as a warm breeze starts to envelop her, and the sun slowly shows itself from behind the gray clouds.

“Hey dad.”

She smiled, not knowing what to say, so she enjoyed the sound of the bird chirping and the smell of fresh grass. “We haven’t talked for a while, I’m sorry..” She continued off, crouching down so she can caress the tombstone better.

“I have been busy, with work, and with..” She stopped talking, realizing that she shouldn’t be bringing this to her talk, but maybe letting it all out is what she actually needs.

No.

Her father does not need to know any more pain.

“The company is going really well, dad..” She said again, the smile on her face is genuine, she is actually satisfied with her work and where her career is going, “I have also been into more adventures with the new shoots, and the new experiences!” She said, telling him all of this felt so natural.

She could feel the familiar warmth creeping up onto her heart.

Happy.

“I’ve been—well, hope you are well too..” She smiled at the tombstone, looking at the writing, “I am sorry, I’m just sad, I don’t know if—” She said again, “I am just, I don’t know, I wish I worked harder in the past to help you, to be there with you..” She continued on.

_I love you, and I’m sorry for being unhappy._

“I believe in myself, I know you believe in me too.”

_I will get through this._

“I want to talk to you one more time, if that’s all it takes I—“ She has been holding on to her tears, “Y-you’d know what to do..”

She’s hurting, no—she shouldn’t be hurting. Not in front of her father, at least that’s what she believes. 

“I’m doing fine, I’m doing fine, I’ll be good, I’ll—“ The first tear threatened to drop, she bit her lip, her throat felt hot and dry, as if she’s suffocating. She’s here for her father, he deserves to see her happy, and fulfilled, not… _not like this_. “Dad, h-he…” She stuttered, looking away, resting her face in her palms.

_He left. _

_ Just like how you left me._

“Why—“ She sobs this time, “**_Why must everyone that I love leave me?”_**

She walked down the gravel path back down to Victor’s car, and true to his promise, he is still parked on where she left—hopefully he won’t ask to much questions as she sniffles and her eyes red as how they are now.

She enters the car, fingers still nervously clutching her umbrella in her hand, clumsily trying to avoid Victor’s gaze, by looking out the window, even though the window itself mirrors the way her eyes seems to be red and teary.

Victor’s gaze seems unbroken, as he kept his hands firmly to himself, he wants to speak—hell, he wants to comfort her, but how? How? How? He should have researched this, he wants to be better, he wants to be there for her.

He agreed for Lucien.

He wants to speak, but he feels like he should know his boundaries.

So he started to drive away.

During the whole trip back to her apartment, his heart ached, he needed to help, but why? He is already helping her, driving her back home was enough, making sure this idiot doesn’t trip face first into the sidewalk today, was enough. It should have been enough.

So he stops by a bakery for a bit, telling her to; _stay right where you are_, and that he won’t be long. And she agrees, her gaze still unfocused, and her eyes still a shade of red, from the looks of it, she’s holding back her tears.

He came back with a box in his hand, not telling her what it was, he drove again on his way to her apartment—and as they parked at front, before she could go outside, he tapped her shoulder.

This act seemed to startle her a bit as she flinched, but she made it up with a small smile on her face, and a questioning look as Victor gave her the box, his face showing no sign of emotion whatsoever.

At this point, she’s amusingly used to it.

“For you.”

She smiled again, he is always like this—she thought to herself.

She gave a questioning look and opened the box in her hands.

_Cream puffs._

Her hands shook.

She made a box of these when Lucien first agreed to help Miracle Finder for her, she made a box of these as a token of her appreciation—it was the first dessert he had ever had, even if he didn’t like dessert, he ate hers.

She remembers how Lucien used to love her cooking, and how at some occasions he’d cook for her, the times spent at his place, the times spent at hers—the times spent that she wish she could relive every single moment of it.

Every single time they spent together was all for nothing, did she mean nothing to him? How could he leave her? Without saying goodbye? Did he really want her out of his life so badly that he had to disappear? Why? Why—why?

She paused, her body seemingly frozen as tears started to fall down her cheeks, Victor’s hand intuitively held on to her wrists, grabbing the box away from her to put on his side of the dashboard—he held her chin on his hand and tilted her face to look at him.

She remembers how Lucien would always be here for her, she remembers his promises, all of his promises that he never kept—has he intended to keep them in the first place? She sometimes wonder, if there are glimpses of another universe just like this one, and if everything is aligned on how they should be.

How could she be so blind? It is as if a cloud has passed by her rationalities, pretending to be the opportunity to be happy, where she believed in something that wasn’t, isn’t, and will never be; Will he come back? _Please come back—I don’t want to sleep, as I sleep, I see your face and feel your touch, come home;_ unknown to her senses, she starting crying in Victor’s hold.

She loves the way Lucien would smile at her after her bad jokes.

She loves the way he would pat her head whenever she’s stressed.

She loves the small laugh and how his eyes would light up.

She loves the way his fingers would graze over hers in the couch.

She loves the way he looks at her with the illusion of genuine adoration.

_She loves the way he loved her._

_ His love for her was real._

_ It was._

_ Wasn’t it?_

The hurt is so loud inside her heart, twisting and churning. His lies were like soft lullabies, but his love was real, as she tries to believe it was.

_You know that, but it doesn’t help. It just hurts more._

It was always warm, wonderful, like sunshine—he was her sunshine. When he’s with her, all the world comes to a halt. She is at the center of his heart. She’s happy. She _was_ happy.

She cried even harder, and Victor’s hold on her tightens, gaze still averted to the floor. She was happy then. It seemed so far out of reach now.

“Was I not enough?” She whispered into nothingness, her figure now shaking, filled with selfdoubt, and sadness that seeps through every crack Lucien left on her.

She didn’t even realize she was crying even more until she felt the tears streaming down even more on her face. In the same moment, she felt a pair of arms envelope her. They held her firmly, pressing her close to another. A familiar feeling of warmth seeped into her being.

“_You were enough,”_ Victor whispered, his words like a gentle lullaby. “More than enough_.” More than he deserved. Losing you was losing everything_.

_You feel alone, but you’re not. I’m here._

_It wasn’t your fault._

_Victor could even feel the shattering pain piercing right into his heart at the sight of her breaking down infront of him. _

_Her heart, _is all too complex for her to be conjured up in this. The way he holds her, reminds her of how Lucien would—how Lucien would hold her. She closes her eyes, but as she opens them, half wishing that when they're open, he’d be right there in front of her, and everything, everything was just a bad dream. But when they open, _she only sees Victor_.


	4. Aerora

The light shone brightly from her windows, her eyes opened slowly; then all together. Her chest felt empty, like it had a hole in it after someone punched through, leaving debris and wreckage at it’s leaving. The bright light of the morning shines upon her face, her eyes squinted, it has been so long since she could feel the familiar warmth on her face. She convinces herself that it is a brand new day, a brand new slot, a slow and steady progress to forget about him.

So she rose upwards, getting herself ready, a small voice inside her mind reminding her that she is doing better, just keep on moving forward, keep on pushing--as if it would help her at any state by now. Perhaps it is a lie, those affirmations, but at this point her eyes are too dull and her smile too tired to even care about what keeps her going anymore. 

As she went outside, locking her door in the progress, her faint heart slowed down as the side of her eye caught the familiar shape of her neighbour’s door--the door that she always prayed, hoped, wished would open and reveal the familiar face of a man she loves; correction, the man she loved. He is nothing but a memory to her, nothing but a painful memory that attaches itself onto her like a parasite.

Sometimes she swore she could still hear his voice in the hallways; the small faint footsteps at night when he went home from his late night work at the research lab. She misses him. God, she does, she misses the memory of him.

It took a while for her to realise that she’s been staring at Lucien’s door for too long, with a shake of her head, she marched outwards, preparing herself to work; the heaviest thing of them all is to pretend like everything’s okay, this feeling of abandonment, this feeling of isolation that she feels, betrayal--couldn’t even describe how gray everything looks to her now.

Even the butterfly which has once given colour to his world, has become a grayscale. 

The streets are filled with people, bustling with energy, loud noises of people on their phones, talking to each other, the wave and wave of it all became a blur to her until suddenly she saw a faint vision of a boy; with a red scarf on the other side of the crossroads.

The faint smile of maple leaves, a bright colour shone from behind the boy. 

The boy looks up, his eyes radiate a wave of sadness, a form of illusion, she froze in the spot. The boy held himself with his arms, looking at her with such sincere sadness; mouthing something towards her, she can’t understand, he’s too far away.. Or is she getting further away? 

_ I’m sorry, Lucien- _ -she thought softly, her hands holding on to herself tightly as the boy shed a tear, she wanted to rush over to the other side but the cars are still going through, was it even real? Was this even real? Her head is starting to spin. 

_ Maybe if I was better, you would have changed your mind, _

_ Would you have stayed? _

_ I should have known. _

  
  


Her mind is racing as the boy in the red scarf stares at her, and their eyes are locked on to each other; she doesn’t know whether to rush there or to run away. 

** _Run, run, run--_ **

No, it’s  ** _him_ ** , how could you ever run from him?

Then suddenly the voice of boy sounded clearer, a faint whisper, the words she has been expecting to hear but never did; the words she wanted for closure, the words of the man she loves; that she wants; that she has always wanted to save--

“I’m sorry.”

She gasped, a tear rolling down her cheek, the boy in the red scarf disappeared into shattering glass of butterflies, up into the sky; she froze, she can’t seem to phantom what this means; was he there? Or was it her memory playing tricks on her? Is it a joke, what if he’s---

“Hey. I’ve been calling your name, why aren’t you--” The familiar sound of officer Gavin rang into her ears, before she know it the light on the crossroads had turned green; so she walked straight forward without giving Gavin a glance.

She should’ve. 

Yet he persisted.

“Hey? Are you okay?” He catched up to her, Gavin was always a curious one, perhaps one could mistake his caring nature into a nosy one, honestly, she didn’t mind. But, she just cried not long ago and if Gavin saw her like this… “Wait--”

He caught her shoulders in his hands as they reached the other side, dragging her to the corner of the street and making her face him--when she met his eyes, she was shocked by the amount of worry it had.

“Gavin, it’s nothing--” She insisted, her hands trying to shove Gavin’s away, “I’m going to be late for work.” 

“Y-y-you.. are you…” He gulped, still holding her shoulders, “Are you… okay?” 

Gavin curses to himself for not choosing the right words, but her eyes looked like it hasn’t seen enough sleep or even a peaceful rest in weeks, perhaps months. 

She looked up at him, she almost wanted to yell out that she isn’t fine, that she feels abandoned, hurt, and left behind--didn’t Lucien said that they’d face it all together? Why the lies? Why does he have to do this? Wasn’t there another way? If he’s planning to kill her, fight her, this was working because she can’t take the pain anymore--

Before she realised it, she’s crying. 

Gavin hugged her, as she was in his arms, she realised the air around her spun, and when her feet no longer touched the ground, she was glad for once that Gavin took her upwards, crying on the corner of the street is no good-sight. 

The wind in her hair, the embrace of warmth, the smell of Gavin, she could sense his readiness to help, to be there, to  _ always _ be there for her, but Gavin isn’t  **him** . And deep inside her mind she craves a substitute, she craves someone to help her rebuild, but her heart craves for the man who shattered herself into pieces.

There in the air, Gavin held her tight as she cried, he’s angry--not too angry to the man who hurt her, but to himself; for letting this happen to her. 

  
  


…

  
  


When Victor received info from Goldman that she didn’t attend work again, he was a bit worried; but Anna, one of her colleagues has been treating her condition really well, and her company is still doing fine, but then again; he knows he should do better, he could do better, for her. 

Perhaps he missed it. Perhaps he always took it all for granted. 

He misses the way she’s so happy whenever she prepares her report of the week.

He misses the way she’d bug him for being so grumpy every time they meet.

He misses her colours.

Now, it’s just a plain dust of ash, a shell of someone who had her colors struck away from her, as much as Victor wanted to bring it back, he isn’t the one to hold such power. 

With a small flick of his wrist, he texted a number; 

“You need to fix her.”

  
  


…

  
  


Gavin is sitting patiently next to her in the park near her apartment, the bench felt uneasy and she looked even more uncomfortable like this, but hence he didn’t know where to go, she was so fragile in his arms and taking her anywhere not close to where she live may be dangerous.

She’s unstable, her evol could grow out of proportion--he thought to himself. 

“I’m sorry Gav… I didn’t mean to burden you, I am… not in my best condition right now..” She muttered slowly, she didn’t have to explain anything to him anyways. She could have just sat there and wept and Gavin would still be here. 

He smiled, locking his arms together in front of him to avoid reaching out to her, 

“You don’t have to explain anything to me…” He said to her, reassuring, affirmative, like how he’s always trained to be.  _ Don’t worry, I’m the least of anyone to try and hurt you _ .

And his mind was struck by the fact that no matter how hard he tried, she still wasn’t safe, she’s hurting; in pain, and yet he cannot do anything about it. His eyes stared at her, and yet hers was looking down at the ground, her palms on either side of her body.

“I should have done better Gav… I need to get myself together, I know it’s not like me to be like this, but I’m getting there, trust me.” Now her eyes light up a bit as she looks up at him. Either lying to herself or lying to him, he could tell that she’s trying. 

He doesn’t know exactly what happened between them.

But the thought of it made his skin crawl, it was a huge red flag when the guy made her stop wearing his ginkgo leaf bracelet; he thought it was possessive thing but perhaps it was to ensure that she wasn’t traceable by any means from anyone else’s will. 

That son of a bitch.

“Gavin?”

Her voice broke his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

She smiled, a faint, genuine one, 

“Thank you.”

And in his head he swore to himself that he’ll do more, he’ll do more to make her happy. 

** _I won’t fail you this time._ **

  
  
  


....

  
  
  


As she walked up the staircase of her apartment, and after a phone call with Anna--after explaining her situation, she expected Anna to be upset at her, throw a tantrum, but instead she was relieved; relieved that someone was with her at the crossroads; who knows what would have happened if she just paused in the middle of the road. Then again, Anna has always been there for her, and she is always thankful for her.

Knowing the company is in good hands, she persisted that she should get better, she needs to get better, she’ll come up with a plan, perhaps she’ll see someone. A professional, or maybe she should google how to deal with loss; but is it really loss?

Her train of thoughts were halted when her eyes landed on Lucien’s door.

Her hurt sunk, her feet felt weak;

_ The door is opened.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late chapter like super late ive been very sad bc of lucien HAHAHAHA nevermind smut is in the next chapter


	5. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its angst then smut lol enjoy

Her feet rushed to the door, she almost didn’t realise it when her hand touched the soft wood of the door, as her senses were heightened at the sight of his apartment, at the familiar feeling of memory; at the feeling that maybe he’s inside, maybe all of this is just a bad dream, maybe he’s back, maybe he would be there with every explanation… maybe--

Her breathing was erratic, her eyes watery, her mind ran through thousands of scenarios of this situation, her chest felt tight as if it’s about to explode, her body is shaking, maybe this is it--this is the closure she needs. She needs to understand him, she needs to. She believes that there’s more to his betrayal, more than it, more than the pain he chose to bring upon both of them, more than the loneliness and lies he brought upon their relationship. 

Her thoughts came to a stop, as her hand shivered--the realization hit her. She is afraid. She is afraid of what is behind the door, what happens if she pushes just a little bit, what would she see; the unknown, the certain, would he be there, and what if he isn’t?

She wants to shout, to scream at herself to just let go. He’s not coming back. Even if he did, he wouldn’t be back for her, it was all a lie--she tries so hard to convince herself, to convince her beating heart that it does not bleed for the man who loves autumn, for the man who taught her so many things, for the man who protected her even on the lie it was built on. 

Could she still love him as who he is now?

If she pushes the door now, would she love the man behind it? _ Would she be disappointed if she didn’t _?

So is it really love?

_ Was it ever? _

Because sometimes what’s left to the imagination is much more terrifying. 

She took a deep breath, a deep breath of reassurance that whatever is behind this door; is her closure. Whether or not he’s there, or whether or not he’s there, then that’s **that**. Her breathing was shaky, the tips of her fingers shaking as she slowly pushed the door wider to open, her eyes closing for a moment, the uncertainty piercing through her skin.

When the door is open and her eyes are wide open, she sees the dark.

The dark of the place where the man she once loved existed.

  
  
  


Her feet trembled as she took the first step inside.

The familiar smell of sandalwood, a mix of autumn and the familiar smell of the Loveland University’s research lab; comforting but also daunting. The walls were the same shade of colour and yet they resembled longing, as if this place has always been awaiting his return. Just like how she’s waiting for him too--although she wouldn’t admit it outloud.

The flooring beneath her feet feels foreign, as if she is walking on to unknown territory; that’s funny, isn’t it? The place where she used to feel the safest is now the place that gives her the feeling of uneasiness. Then she realised that it was never the place that made her safe, it was him--it was always him.

Scanning the room, all she see is darkness, furniture coated in the darkness of the room, the faint colours of the outside world shone dimly from the curtains covering every single window. 

_ Just like him _ , she thought, _ always dark behind a thin veil of secrets, only letting the colours seep through such barriers _\--

She paused. 

Her eyes scanned the room, it landed on the couch. Out of all places, she thought; why does this couch have to get her attention, she felt like she’s about to burst, cry, break everything here into shreds, destroy everything that has his essence; destroy ** _him_ **.

But deep down she knows that she’s holding on to something that maybe doesn’t exist anymore, maybe it never did. Maybe Lucien never did exist, and she has always been falling for Ares’ stupid trick and this was all her fault and--

The sound of the door behind her closing.

A soft click.

A presence.

Behind her.

She wants to see, her whole heart is aching to turn around. Please turn around, it felt like it was begging her, but she just couldn’t, her eyes started to water; this doesn’t make sense, she constantly reassures herself that this would all make sense in the end, but why now does it feel like it makes the most nonsense that she could ever think of--

  
  


** _Is it you? Is it you? Is it, is it? Is--_ **

Deep down she knew. She could feel him.

She just couldn’t face him.

Is it her own mind playing tricks on her?

_ Is it truly him? _

Footsteps.

Like echoes, like sharp glass piercing through her ears, prominent steps; marching towards her in slow steady steps, as if he’s afraid of her running away. 

Why is she frozen? 

** _Move, move, move--no, run, this is the man who hurt you, this could even be a murderer, are you crazy? _ ** Her thoughts spiralling as the footstep grew closer, she shook her head, she can’t run, because deep down she _ needs to see him again. _

_ Trust your instincts. _

His words, felt like a long time ago, felt like a lifetime ago, felt like it was from someone else’s mouth; from someone else’s soul, from a soul that loved her, from a soul that promised to never leave her; a soul that is important to her. 

** _I trusted my instincts, and look where it got me! _ **

A warm presence behind her, just an arm’s reach away, and suddenly she heard a rustle, likely a hand reaching out, as if he wants to hold her, turn her around; but it stays afloat not daring to touch her, she could feel his eyes staring into her smaller frame, his arm reaching out to her but not touching her;

And that’s when she realised that she has been holding her breath, as the warmth finally returns to her lungs, she spoke;

** _“Lucien.”_ **

  
  


…

  
  


The sharp sound of his name on her tongue felt like a million daggers to his chest, he could feel the sharp pain of it all over again, the same feeling when he would work himself out to forget about her, to stop _ feeling _for her; and look where he is now. So much for a perfect plan.

He froze, his hand; once wanting to reach out to her shoulder, begging her silently, _ please turn around _. And yet, he knows, he knows he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve to see her, to have her eyes on him once more, to even touch her, so he withdrew his hand, back to his sides, palms clenching together to avoid reaching out to her. 

He hadn’t wanted this. He never wanted to go this far. Of course his plan had involved awakening her, hurting her in order to do so; he was aware of the task, so why, why, why did he still do it? He wanted her to stop fighting him at first, yes. But this--

His eyes stared at her back, at her frame as she circled her arms around herself, a trait that she has whenever she feels unsafe, unprotected; and his heart broke. 

_ She doesn’t feel safe with me anymore. _

The realization hits him like a tsunami, everything he did--everything he did was real, and yet, he couldn’t tell her that, could he? He couldn’t rush here and just tell her that he missed her, he missed holding her, he missed having her with him, he missed the colors in his life. 

But what is he than a selfish, selfish man?

Draining her out of her own colors just so that he can feel satisfied with **his own **lie. 

He called out to her name.

The first time in so long. 

He saw her form shook with his voice calling out to her, as if she’s hearing the sound of a man who is dead calling out to her; maybe it is true. Lucien was dead and Ares; Ares is calling out to her, familiar, but different. Maybe Lucien never did exist, but he always thought to himself that Lucien always existed; she was the one who made sure that Lucien survived, the one who revived him, who made him feel alive. Lucien was the best version of him and it was all because of her.

The silence between them was loud, he could feel it, he could sense her racing thoughts inside her own head, her tears starting to form, her throat that feels like there’s no air flowing through. 

Maybe this was a bad idea.

He could just put her to sleep and she’ll remember all of this as a dream, a bad dream.

“Why are you here?” She spoke, not turning around. Her voice cracked at the end of the sentence, _ here _ , why is he _ here _, why is he back in her life, why must he? He couldn’t think of an exact answer at this very moment, everything seemed like flashes, everything seemed irrational and yet so right. 

“Please look at _ me _.”

The audacity, he spoke as if he deserved it; but he’s always like that. He wishes for more, he wishes for the beauty of the world and yet destroys it, he wishes for things he could never have and perhaps may never deserve in the first place. 

Maybe it was for the best, because if he saw her eyes, her face again, he might drop everything right now. Unbeknown to him, she is also barely holding herself together, afraid if she turned around to face him she’d break, she’d break all of the resolve she had, and beg for him to stay. 

She doesn’t want to beg someone who abandoned her. 

“Why should I?” _ ...turn around _, she wanted to add. So that I could finally stare at the eyes of the man who hurt me? Who abandoned me? Who lied to her and yet had the nerve to haunt her even in his absence?

“I….” He spoke softly, his soft voice rang into her ears like poison; she wanted to turn around, if he touched her shoulder to help her turn around, she would. She would always do it for him; always so trusting, as if her heart’s has always been made to accommodate his. “I… want to… see you.”

“You want to see me?” Her voice rose, this time she sniffled back her tears, if it wasn’t obvious at how hard she’s holding them back at this point--”You want to see me? Why the_ fuck _did you leave me then?!” She almost yelled, but her voice was too weak, if she rose it more she might cry; she needs to stay in control. 

Lucien was silent.

“You don’t think for a second that I _ have always _ wanted to see you? I had to _ endure everything, _without you.” She wanted to scream at him, see his face as she yelled, as she poured all of her anger into him, he deserves to be hurt, he deserves to hurt even more than her. “What hurts me the most--” She paused, her tear rolled through her cheek, “--is that, even after you lied, after you said everything wasn’t real--” She stopped.

_ I still look for you everyday. _

_ I still want to talk to you everyday. _

_ I still look at your door and hope you’ll come out everyday. _

_ I still want you everyday. _

But she held herself back.

He doesn’t deserve it.

“At a point I was so sure that this was the universe punishing me--” She started crying heavier now, “everyone I ever loved, leaves.” She took a breath, “Maybe it’s me, it’s my fault, maybe it was my fault that they don’t stay, that they can’t stay, that everything just--” She stopped.

She can’t. 

This was harder than she thought, her chest felt like it’s being stabbed, and she’s not even looking at him, she can’t even look at him; to hell if this isn’t real, to hell if this is an illusion, it hurts just as much. 

As she sobbed, holding herself together, a pair of arms circled her, as she saw the familiar hands, the familiar scent, the familiar warmth, she almost fell to her knees if it wasn’t for the strong arms holding her back--her, in his arms, sobbing. 

In the arms of the man who is both the man she loves and the man she despises; she never thought that being in his arms, in his hold, would feel like coming home; feels like coming home to an old shattered cottage in the dark, but it’s _ home _, maybe because she’s stupid enough to call it one. 

She doesn’t care. 

“Why did you _ do that to me?” _ She sobbed, her body pressing back into him or did he hug her tighter? The feeling of cautiousness as if the other one of them would run away, disappear if they aren’t close; it was torment. “I _ loved _ you.” _ I still do. _

She could feel his warm breath on her head, he could feel her whole body trying not to break, trying not to fall, but she has always been a fighter; his little butterfly. 

_ I’m sorry. _

_ I’m sorry. _

_I never deserved you, yet I am selfish enough to make you think I was. I love you, I have never stopped loving you, I want to be with you but the feeling of reaching out and not being able to; torments me. _ His eyes felt heavy, he wanted to shed a tear, but he couldn't. Not now, not when he needs to be tough for her, not when he is the one that caused all of this pain in the first place. 

Tension knots in her throat, threatening to spill over in a cry, in a flood of tears. He reached out to her shoulders, slowly turning her around to face him, and she didn’t relent, but when he finally saw her; he shattered. He pulled her closer to his chest as she sobbed, as she let all of her anger, frustration, and love away just like that--on to him. 

He lets a tear roll down his cheek.

For this is too much even for him. 

“I’m sorry.” He spoke, softly. He means it. He is a fool. He has always been the fool.

She snapped. 

Her shaking body froze.

Then with all her strength, she pushed him off her. 

** _Sorry? That’s all you could say? Sorry? Sorry?!_ **

“You’re not sorry, you never loved me!” She pushed his chest again,_ if you loved me, then you wouldn’t have done this--if you loved me, then why am I the only one left broken? _ Her eyes looked up and for the first time she met his eyes, the same eyes she once trusted, the same eyes of the man who broke her trust; “ _ Your apology means nothing, _ your love means nothing!” Another push, and now they’re a solid tile away. 

Distance, between them. “Isn’t this what you have always wanted?” She said as her voice trembled; “_ Distance _ ? Between _ us _?

Lucien wasn’t even angry.

He received every single one of her shoves as punishment; he didn’t deserve to be close to her; she has every right to push him further away. If it wasn’t her, he wouldn’t have the courage to push himself further away himself. 

“I never meant to hurt you.” His voice barely a whisper, but loud enough to reach her ears. 

In another world, she knew she would have said that_ she will not give up on him, _that what they had was special; but who is she kidding? She was just some casual daliance to him, he doesn’t even care; “Tell me.” She spoke, her eyes filled with hurt as she stared at the eyes of the man in front of her,

“Tell me you don’t care about me.”

Silence.

Only the sound of silence.

“Tell me you don’t care about me,” she walked closer to him, “and you never did care about me,” now she is standing right in front of him, “and that all I ever was, was just some fun thing to mess around for you--” She sobbed, “tell me…”

He opened his mouth, his hands reaching out, out of his own habits, to caress her face, “_ I can’t.. _” Because he doesn’t, he cares for her, he always did--he always did loved her, it had not changed, not now, not then. 

“I don’t want your apology.” She spoke, firm. “I just want you to…” She drifted off, her eyes locking into his, ..._ stay _. 

“I want to.” As if reading her mind, as if he could understand her longing for him to stay, to not leave; it is what he wants to, so why must he fight it? “Gods, I want to.” Both his hands are now cupping her face, his head bent down so their foreheads touch now, and the proximity between them was intense; as if a dam broke and all of his emotions are just a huge pile of mess.

“Then _ stay.” _ Her voice was so soft, he could feel her soft breath, he could feel how delicate and fragile she is, how she tries not to beg for him to stay, but her heart is reaching out for him, still. “Don’t leave me. Not _ now. _ ” _ I love you. _

He responded by pulling her closer so that his face is hidden in the nape of her neck, he could feel her breathe, he could feel the beat of her heart, she is _ so real _ , so beautiful, so vivid--so full of colours, so full of joy, he could _ restore it all _ , all he could do now is _ stay. _

_ Stay. _

A powerful word, if it was only that easy. 

The illusion of their happiness, the illusion of what could be; the illusion that they could stay, that they could still be together; a lie. 

But he _ indulges. _

_ Yes. I can stay, for now. _

He feels her hands on his face, making him face her, his face directly in front of hers, and a smile--she _ smiled. _ How he wished in the darkness of the night to be able to witness it again, to be able to see her in front of him, so real, and _ his. _

_ “Lucien…” _She whispered to him, “Don’t push me away.”

His eyes widened;

“I--” She paused,

_ This will only hurt both of us more. _

_ But we don’t care, do we? _

“I’m scared..” Lucien spoke, finally. His grip on her getting tighter, his chest felt like it might explode, he is _ so tired. “ _ I’m afraid if I let you go now, _ you’ll disappear.” _

_ “Then stay.” _She persisted, her eyes searching for him, searching for bits of hope. 

He _ wants to. _

But he can’t.

He knows he can’t.

“I can’t--” He stood up straight again, his eyes showing a hint of despair, of _ another goodbye. _

_ She can’t handle this. _

_ “Don’t leave me.” ...Not again. _She tried to anchor him down, with both her arms, trying to meet his eyes again, to convince him to stay. 

  
  


He looks at her, then he looks away, trying to pry her off--”I’m sorry, but I can’t--” He paused, his voice cracked, that’s when she realised that it is as hard for him as it is for her. 

“_ Why can’t you _?” Her arms clawing at his upper arms, his hold on her now gone. And she missed it, she missed the faint brief moment of warmth she so wanted to feel once again. “Am I not good enough, still?!” 

She wanted to punch him, hit him--anything, anything to make this pain go away. _ It hurts. _

_ “Stay with me. Whatever you seek, whatever you need--” She caught up to him, trying to stay in front of him as the man started to turn his back, she managed to catch him in time; “We can find it together.” Please. _

_ Lucien, with the eyes of a man in pain, pried her hands off him, with a gentle smile, “I’m sorry.” _

_ Then he started to walk away, to the door-- _

_ “No--Lucien--wait,” Her voice radiates the ache within her chest once more as she marches to catch the man before he slips away… again. _

_ She instantly catched up, grabbing his clothes, and marching in front of his figure; pulling him down as their lips touched. But her usual modesty only made her boldness in the surprising kiss she gave him all the more alluring. Bold, yes: that was the word for the kiss she’d given him. _

_ Her fingers were firm on his cheek as she turned his face toward her, and her hands fisting in his collar were assertive. But his own response had been even bolder: pulling her against his chest, sliding his hand over the dip of her spine toward the curves of her bottom, pressing his thigh between her legs to make her gasp against his lips– _

_ When their lips touched, Lucien had thrown all rational thoughts out the window; all he could think about is how warm her lips feel and how right it is to finally kiss her again, nights of imagining that he’d never feel her soft lips on his, to never be able to embrace her again like this--yes, they needed to talk, but they need this more than ever, the proximity, the prestige. _

That breathtaking, toe-curling, utterly unplanned kiss that left him completely desperate for her and completely panicked. He hadn’t meant to kiss her. He hadn’t kissed her, in fact; she had been the one to initiate the kiss, and if he was honest, he was still rather shocked that she’d done it, given how demure she usually was when they were alone.

“I am truly sorry,” She spoke as they broke apart to catch their breaths, _ ...this is the only way to prevent it, prevent you from leaving. His lips slide over her cheek, and it’s a ghost, a figment from when she was enough for him, she wanted to break, right here right now in his arms. In what time they had left. _

When Lucien pressed into her firmly and kissed her supple lips once more, she gasped--his grip on her almost to the point of hurting, but she could feel the need, the rush that if he doesn’t feel this now, he might never be able to again--and she wants bruises._ Something to keep with her later _, something to press her fingers against and remember how he had been here with her, that he wanted her desperately enough to leave fingerprints on her skin. She wants this wise man to lose control because of her.

Lucien is passionate and overwhelming, but never crosses the bounds of perfect care with her. He never even nears them. He is good at sex, careful and deliberate, and he would never do anything to hurt her or control her—

She feels him moving her towards his bed, the bed where they had made love countless times; this was not love at this moment; this was another form of lust, pent up emotions, building and breaking all at the same time. The overwhelming sensation of finally, ** _finally_ **, the burn of it all is at stake, and to hell with consequences; she has him, even for now. 

He has her in his arms, pressing down against her on the bed. He catches her up in a kiss that is slow and filled with feeling. Their rationalities melt away - maybe they never really existed - and then he grasps her and their hands join together as if they have never left each other’s hold.

His kisses are rushed, as if he wants to shower her with the intensity of his emotions, and she accepts; she always does. She gasps at the slow intensity of it, the strangeness of feeling him again. Their emotions are just as real as they are. As they touch, skin on skin, the more it becomes unreal, the more it’s like touching his soul.

“_ Lucien-- _” she gasps, palming him against his pants, and he groans, she thinks that she would never get tired of that sound, picturing it into her memory, she isn’t sure--maybe she isn’t sure that sex is the answer, but the closeness, of being one with him again; entices her. 

She loves him, she thinks. And in this place, right now, she can feel his love for her. But there is no true ground, no place to anchor herself to except for him, and it’s like they’re both being swept away into pure feeling. She can’t hold onto him, but he’s everywhere, lips and hands and oh, he’s hard, straining against her, and it’s so good.

It doesn’t have a beginning or end. Time loses meaning - it runs slow like the tide, it rushes like a wave. His grinds against her are like the beat of her heart, slow and deep against her.

As he prepared to get rid of the fabrical obstacle that separated him from the object of his lust, he stopped abruptly and placed his forehead against one of the girl’s shoulders, taking a deep breath in order to regain self-control. 

“We must not, my little butterfly... We can't do this” ** _This will only hurt us more_ **\--The pain in his voice was palpable. He was fighting against himself, against his love. 

“Lucien, look at me...” She made him look at her, flattering his face with her fine fingers. “For this night, let's forget our obligations... Let's forget who we are... Please, Lucien...” In a muffled sob, she pressed her forehead against his, desperately struggling against the emotion that overwhelmed her. 

With that, he gave in. Shamelessly staring at her graceful form as he undresses her, he let his eyes draw the contour of her legs into memory, only stopping to lower his eyes when her breasts were presented lest he lost the sliver of control he worked so hard to retain.

She fell back on his bed, not entirely gracefully, having one of her hands already caught on his clothes, trying to get his blazer off, his shirt, and then the buckle of his pants. And when he’s shirtless and she wants to start pleading _ please take your pants off- _-he doesn’t listen, he only manages to touch her breast, and kiss her until her breath is lost, and she could feel him, his frame between her legs, his warmth radiating. 

“Do you want to_ fuck me _ , Lucien?” She asked, one hand holding on to his neck and the other traveling lower to try and unbuckle his pants as her back arched like cupid's bow. “Do you want to make me yours?”, _ ...yours again. _

He groaned, so this is how she wants to play it, and grinds on her core, she stifled back a moan--It was sensual, in the most vulgar way how he couldn’t help himself and let her in. It started with a smirk, then a sigh, his hands helping her take his pants off. And now, there they are--bare to each other in a sense of urgency. 

The second she moaned on to his lips - a single, breathy “_ Yes _” - his knee wedged between her thighs, spreading them wider. His hand slithered deftly beneath her. His lips quirked up in a grin as he felt how wet, how ready for him she already was for him. She barely had time to register his approach before he slipped two fingers into her all at once, pushing the breath out of her body as he thrust then curled inside of her.

His grin broadened at the sight of her own startled lips hanging open, lungs heaving.

“Shh… my little butterfly,” Lucien muttered, his hand perfectly still except for the arching movement of his fingers. He marvels at the sight of her spread wide and panting against him, just like this. 

Just as she began to adjust to the intrusion, he pushed in further still, the heel of his palm pressing against the little bundle of nerves that made her pulse quicken. Any discomfort was washed away in an instant as the pad of his middle finger found it, pulling another soft moan from her lips.

“_ Ahhh… _” he sighed, as if he had discovered a great secret. His other arm slid behind her waist, tilting her hips forward just enough to give him easier access to the treasure he'd found.

“I did not think to find it so easily,” Lucien said, his forehead pressed against hers. “I should not be surprised, though. You continue to astound me with how quickly one accomplishment follows another.”

She could feel it building already - too much, too quickly. He was barely moving at all, and she was on the brink of shattering into pieces. She pushed her hips tighter against him, urging him on as he stroked against a place she hadn't even known existed until he found it so suddenly.

“Tell me - how quickly can you _ come _ from my fingers? Did you miss me that much? ” Lucien muttered darkly, his eyes locked onto hers. Need and desperation overwhelmed her, tempered only by a hint of something else, something akin to fear. His wolfish grin, his hungry eyes - who was he, really? Certainly not stolid Lucien, the same lonely professor she’d teasingly called and made blush a few months ago. 

“Or perhaps you do not wish it?” he said, pulling her back into the moment as he pulled away from the promised pleasure.

“Please,” she moaned breathlessly, her lips barely brushing against his. She missed this, this proximity makes everything intense--the feel of the man she needs, craves, is right here; right here with her. 

A feral growl rumbled in his chest as her hips stuttered and she sighed. A warm glow washed over her and she swore she could hear him laughing. But her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, thoughts cast from her mind as her world narrowed down to only the release, the sensation of pleasure that came over her in waves. Lucien’s thumb stroked a slow line down her core, drawing a faint whimper from her.

And Gods, that look on her face: it was tempting and beautiful and real – so real and tangible and clear. And all at once, his cloud of lust-driven denial crumbled apart. This was not a dream, she is real; this was not a foray into the comfortable and malleable world of the dreams. This was tangible and solid, an event that he had allowed to happen and could not shape or bend or alter to his will, and now that it was done, he… he did not know what to do.

Lucien breathed hard as he stared at her. He stared into the deep and lucid pools of her eyes, these eyes that he was coming to adore more with every passing day, and with every beat of his heart, a cold sort of uncertainty tempered the roaring heat that had prompted him to fall into this tryst in the first place.

He shouldn’t have done this. He shouldn’t have encouraged her. What had he done? 

_ Oh, to hell with it-- _

Her whimpers seemed to curl over his skin, and his sudden kiss caught the moan in her throat as he pinched her nipple between thumb and forefinger, while his other hand was still running along the cleft between her legs, waiting for her to come down. Her legs parted wider willingly for his touch, her hands clutching at him to pull him closer. She could feel his arousal press against her hip, and her kiss became more desperate. She gasped against his lips, her hands clawing into his hips. Blood rushed through her ears as his finger continued to dip even deeper, parting her, and a satisfied hum came from Lucien’s lips at the wetness of her. 

His thumb was still rubbing over her nipple, sending streaks of desire through her, and every apprehension she might have had was burned away by the heat between them. His name was a whisper on her lips as he lazily stroked over the center of her desire in the same rhythm as he teased her nipple.

“Tell me, my little butterfly,” he murmured, his breath tracing over her mouth, “tell me how you would like me to take you.” Her breath caught in her throat at his words, and her eyes widened, shrouded by raw desire. Slowly, he rocked himself against her, the low rumble in his chest growing until she realized it as a barely veiled moan. 

“You’re so ready for me. Should I just take you against the bed here as you face me?” His finger sank deeper into her, then another, curling into the center of her heat, and she slapped one hand to her mouth, barely biting back a low, desperate moan at his ministrations. He accentuated his words by another slow movement of his hips. “Or would you like me to_ bend you over, _ push you down until you submit entirely for me and take you from behind?” His fingers worked relentlessly in and out of her, and she had started to roll her hips to meet his movements, all but writhing beneath his touch once again.

Her breath came in short, hot whimpers, her eyes dark and transfixed by him. “Tell me,” he whispered, his voice dropping until it was barely more than a tremble against her skin as he ran his lips over her ear, teeth nipping at her earlobe.

Her head swam, and her skin seemed to burn all over. Her desire curled tighter and tighter in her belly when he slightly upped the pace of his fingers, and she was glad that she was pinned between Lucien and the bed or her legs would have given way underneath her. “Anything,” she gasped out and reached for him again, rubbing a hand over the tip of his cock, “please, Lucien.”

Although appearing breathless, he wasted no time pulling her to him again as his fingers left the cleft between her legs. He backed her against the bed, one arm holding her close while the other teased at one of her breasts. His mouth was hot and wet on hers, no restraint for how she must’ve tasted like him. His hand slid lower, trailing down her side and sliding over her hip to squeeze for a moment.

His teeth grazed her shoulder, his body arched over her smaller frame. Her legs grew weaker by the moment as he pressed his fingers inside her again, the press of his fingers rocking her with waves of pleasure that had her putting her full weight on to the bed in order to not crumble.

She felt it growing close once more, the crest of something she hadn’t felt in so long approaching quickly. She wanted to come around his cock, not his fingers. “Lucien,” she panted, her head rolling to the bed.

He used that as an opportunity to bite at her neck, his tongue teasing and slick over her own skin. His voice was a whisper in her ear when he spoke. “_ Come for me, _”

She shook her head, but he grew even closer, a knee parting her legs and his hand working magic in her aching pussy. It hits her like a flame, burning powerfully right at her core. Her legs twitched and locked, her grip on him tightening, both her hands and elsewhere. Breaths were forced out of her through gritted teeth, her eyes opening as she came down from it.

He kept teasing his little butterfly, sliding his fingers out but letting his thumb linger to play. It overstimulated, making her claw at his other hand, and moan into his sweaty skin as her head fell forward. She counted three breaths before looking up at him again. Both their hearts were racing, anticipation hitting her as his hands framing her face and lips meeting hers once more. It was sloppier than before, making her laugh a little at how ardent he was being despite the fact that he was totally falling apart. That was the whole point of sex, right? Aside from the obvious. She had been waiting for him to unravel like this for a very long time.

“_ Turn over _,” he murmured against her mouth, kissing her once more before sitting back to nudge at her side.

She didn’t question the order, rolling over onto her stomach. The bed creaked as he shifted around. She looked over her shoulder, blowing away strands of her own hair that stuck to the corners of her mouth, but still, she couldn’t see him. His hands began at her thighs, a soft touch from calloused palms. He slid them smoothly upward, stopping at her backside to grasp, fingertips digging in lightly.

Then all of a sudden she feels him tucks his nose between her thighs, instantly guides her to back up to her knees higher, dragging the bridge along her cunt. she shudders, and then she whimpers when he drags his tongue between her wet lips and works his tongue into her hole. “Have you been _ fucking yourself _ so well before coming here? Do you want my cock that bad?”

The girl underneath tried to open her mouth to answer, but it came out as a moan. His thick tongue laps messily at her cunt and stretches her wider than she expects, licking the inside of her while she instinctively tightens around it. She could come again just like this, fucked on his tongue with his breath on her wet skin, his teeth brushing over her bare ass.

“Answer me.” He growls, pulling his tongue back so he can nip at her thigh.

She curls her fist around a handful of his sheets, whimpering as he nuzzles the inside of her thighs, guiding them further apart. She could say no right now, or offer to get him off some other way. His cock might be too much, having him inside her again. It might hurt her after this, but it’s the only thing she has left of him.

Perhaps he senses her hesitation, because he now is more gentle with her. He swipes his tongue over her cunt, licking her clit until she’s trembling before teasing at her entrance. With what sounds like a groan, he laps at her more in earnest. 

“_ Please-- _” she almost sobbed, everything was too much, too intense. 

And finally, he relents, moving upwards on to her strained body. She can feel him moving in the pressure on her shoulder, sucking in a breath when she finally feels his cock, hard and bigger than she remembered as it pushes against her thigh. Lucien growls lightly as his hips rock, rubbing his cock over her wet cunt. She shifts underneath him, squirming to press herself onto his length, but when the man holds her in place, she stays obediently.

Like his tongue, the roll of his hips is messy, imprecise. He ruts against her and makes a mess, dragging the wetness of her own pussy all over her thighs and her navel until the head of his cock finally angles just where he wants it, pressing against her entrance. Lucien slows down then, gently easing himself into her, _ stretching _ her--

She pants openly, whining with the effort. She’s wetter and slicker than she’s ever been before, and despite the strain. This is blasphemy, but there’s no backing away now. She’s already had him inside of her. It can’t get better.

This won’t be the last time they fuck, she knows.

Unable to really squirm against him, she groans, “Fuck me. Please fuck me. _Ta__ke me as you like. _”

Lucien huffs gently against her shoulder before he obliges her, sinking his considerable girth further into her hole and holding her down when she cries out. Anyone wandering nearby could certainly hear her, her loud grunts and her wordless pleading fill the air of the clearing as the man above her thrusts into her wet, noisy pussy. She wants to lean back, help him take her, but she lacks the leverage while she’s being held down. Instead, she tries to relax, giving herself over and letting Lucien use her body--in hopes that this might change his mind, _ that she is good enough now more than ever for him to stay _. 

His grasp on her hips tightened, drawing her back on him in a hard jerk. She moaned his name into the pillow, shuddering as he began a new rhythm. Lucien fucked her like nothing else mattered. Thoughts filtered through her mind unbidden and messy, incoherent because it was impossible to think through the bliss. 

“Fuck,” He moaned, 

He arched over her, such a difference in size that he had slight difficulty biting her shoulder this time, his cock slamming into her like his very existence depended on it. His hand delved into the locks of her hair, catching a grip that made her arch and lift her head. The sting at her scalp drew a low hiss out of the girl, his body rocking against hers morphing it into a moan.

She’s so unbearably sensitive now that just the slightest brush of his hands on her makes her tighten, and that’s what he wants, forcing her to twitch and squeeze when he thrusts.

“_ I love you _” His voice rang into her ears, and she exploded--

Coming feels almost involuntary, almost outside of herself. She weeps as her orgasm makes her stomach tremble and her cunt tighten, her hips wiggling as much as they can. It’s when she’s unbearably tight around Lucien’s cock that he growls low in his throat and she can feel him filling her up, the hot spurts of his _ come _ inside her. 

Lucien then breathes heavily on the back of her neck, huffing and panting as he comes down from his orgasm. He nuzzles her instead, licking the spots where his teeth left shallow bruises to soothe her. He gives attention to her shoulders as well, and he nudges her hair until she’s resting with only one cheek on the bed, and with the tenderness of an actual lover, Lucien nuzzles and gently comforts her once more as he slips out of her--

And that’s when reality hits them both,

“I_ love you, Lucien-- _” she says, with a pause and she faces Lucien who is now laying on his side next to here.

He pulls her closer, and kisses her, a bare whisper; “I love you..” _ so.. so much, that it scares me _. He looks at her form, bruises--It will be there tomorrow, and it will leave a bruise, and she will be glad of it, a gift of some sorts.

He will have walked away from her the second time tomorrow morning, the realisation hits both of them, they both knew, as he steeled his heart against her love. Against his love. He will be alone, and he will be in pain. Not the pain she brought him, lovingly, her small hands against him. The pain that set him free. He will long for that.

He will run his fingertips over her body, feeling his body so close to his, and his heart will bleed. The pain she delivered will be nothing compared to the pain of missing her. Dull and unpleasant, unwelcome. He will want to return to her, and he will not.

He will be hurting, alone, in a ruined place.

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to hell


End file.
